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Kicked Out by My Son: Living in the Stairwell After Retirement
墨書 Inktalez
I am 75 years old, forced by my own son to live in a stairwell. After my retirement, my son kicked me out of the house, and I spent a month living in the stairwell. Coldly, I said, "I have no son."
My name is Hou Deyuan, and I am an ordinary retired worker. If someone had told me that I would be driven out of my home by my own son after retirement, I would never have believed it. Yet here I am, lying in the stairwell of Building 3 on Dashizi Street in Shenyang.
In 1985, I spent most of my life savings to buy a small apartment on Dashizi Street. Back then, houses were cheap, but for an ordinary worker like me, it was still a huge sacrifice. After purchasing the house, my eldest son, Hou Zuo Qing, was about to get married, so I had him move his household registration here.
"You are my eldest son; this house will eventually be yours," I said as I patted him on the shoulder. It was only natural to raise children for support in old age. I gave my best to my son, believing that he would take care of me when I grew old.
In 1992, Dashizi Street was slated for redevelopment. Our whole family moved out to rent a place while waiting for relocation. Those years of renting were tough, but I felt secure knowing that soon we would have a new home, and it would be larger than the original.
Finally, in 1996, it was our turn to return. The new apartment we received had three bedrooms and a living room, significantly larger than the original small house. Although we had to pay some additional fees, I was still very happy.
On the day we processed the paperwork, my daughter-in-law Wang Li was particularly enthusiastic. "Dad, let me cover the extra cost for the increased area. You're getting older; it must be tiring for you to run around."
"That sounds great! You young people handle things so efficiently," I said without hesitation as I handed her the relocation certificate and cash. My eldest son stood by, patting his chest in assurance.
Time passed quickly, and in July 1997, I heard that the houses had been delivered.
When I went to check out the new house, I was surprised to find someone already living there. That person was my son.
“Hou Zuo Qing? What are you doing here?” I was taken aback.
“Dad, please have a seat.” Hou Zuo Qing's expression was a bit awkward.
I sat down on the sofa, looking at the brand-new decor, feeling quite pleased. “The house looks nice; it must have cost quite a bit, right?” I was just puzzled as to why my son had renovated the house without ever mentioning it to me.
“Dad, there’s something I need to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“This house… it’s mine now.”
I thought I misheard him. “What do you mean it's yours?”
“The property deed is in my name.” He pulled out a red booklet from the drawer.
I took it and looked; indeed, it had his name on it.
“What… how did this happen?”
“Dad, when we paid for the additional area, it was done under our names as a couple, so the staff naturally put the deed in my name. We thought you knew,” Wang Li explained from the side.
My head was buzzing. “How could I possibly know? This house is clearly mine!”
“Dad, please don’t get upset.”
Hou Zuo Qing comforted me. “Even though the deed is in my name, we’re all family. You and Mom can move in; whose name it is doesn’t really matter.”
“That’s true; it’s all the same.” I sighed in relief. After all, we were family; whose name mattered less.
The next day, this news reached my younger son A Qiang's ears.
That afternoon, A Qiang stormed over to me.
“Dad, I heard that big brother put the property deed in his own name?”
I sighed again. “Yeah, it’s already like that.”
“What do you mean it's already like that?”
A Qiang grew increasingly agitated. "That house originally belonged to you! Why should it go to him alone?"
"A Qiang, it's already happened, and there's nothing we can do to change it."
"Nothing we can do? I don't believe that!"
A Qiang slammed his hand on the table. "I'm going to confront him right now!"
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